


Obsession

by ShippersList



Series: Ficlet Factory [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Established Relationship, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-12 19:21:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5677714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShippersList/pseuds/ShippersList
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint returns early from a mission.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Obsession

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lola381pce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lola381pce/gifts).



> This is for lola, because [reasons](http://lola381pce.tumblr.com/post/136844357662/why-am-i-so-obsessed-with-phil-coulson).

When Clint returned a day early from his mission, he thought he would be greeted by a casually-clad Phil, with glasses perched on his nose, perhaps reading or watching some trashy TV to turn his brain off after a day of wrangling the Avengers. Or then Phil would already be in bed, and Clint could just crawl in, wrap himself around Phil, and relax.

What he definitely didn’t expect to see when he peeked into the bedroom was _this_ : Phil Coulson leaning naked against a wall, skin still moist after the shower, hand wrapped around his cock. His head was bent forward, his eyes were closed, and there was a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he slowly jerked off.

Clint blinked and his mouth dropped slightly open.

Seeing Phil jerk off was nothing new as such, not since they’d started this thing between them. But seeing him do it all alone, that was something Clint had yet the chance to see. Thanking whatever cousin of Thor who was listening that he had already tossed his gear into his own quarters, he snuck closer and pressed his chin against the door frame.

Someone might have had problems, watching from the barely ajar door, but not Clint. After all, he was Hawkeye, for fuck’s sake!

In the bedroom, Phil was almost like on a plate in all his glory as he languidly worked his hand up and down his cock, collecting the pre-come in his palm to make it glide easily over his length. Like hypnotized, Clint’s eyes zeroed on the movement following the slow strokes up and down, up and down, up and down…

He spied the exact moment when Phil tightened his grip _just right_ to make his breath hitch. Clint knew how it felt, those gun calluses scraping against the hot, hard flesh, and he swallowed convulsively.

He tore his gaze from Phil’s hand, trailed upwards along the planes of Phil’s skin, caressed his chest and the scar that marred it. It was covered in fuzzy hair and almost camouflaged in the flush spreading down on Phil’s skin, but Clint knew it was there. He knew how uneven it was, how there was no feeling on the scar tissue itself, but how extremely sensitive the skin was just around it.

Phil sighed, and, even without looking, Clint knew that fresh spurts of pre-come dribbled from the slit. Clint loved when Phil sighed like that, and when he saw Phil biting back a groan, he knew Phil was getting closer. The wicked twist Phil made with his thumb over the glans before he pressed his thumb right into the slit made Clint’s own cock jerk, and he swallowed a moan. He desperately wanted to free it from the confinement of his tac pants, but didn’t dare to move, afraid the sound would alert Phil.

And Clint definitely didn’t want to alert Phil.

Clint’s attention snapped to Phil’s other hand as his fingertips dug into the wall, fingers spreading wide, the muscles straining and trying to hold off the inevitable.

By now, Clint wholly assumed that Phil would speed up and finish himself off, but he didn’t. Instead, he slowed down and eased his hold, trailing his fingers in a loose ring along his cock in teasing, feather-light strokes. His breath came in soft pants and Clint could see how he resisted the urge to thrust up into the barely-there hold of his own hand.

And then, to Clint’s utmost shock, Phil stopped, removing his hand altogether, and left his throbbing cock to strain futilely in the empty air.

 _No! No no no no nonooooo,_ Clint mouthed, staring wide-eyed at Phil. _You can’t stop there!_

Phil was leaning back against the wall, his forehead damp with sweat as he tried to get his breathing under control. His cock twitched once, twice, trying to pull his attention back, to encourage him to finish the job. It was such a gorgeous cock: deliciously thick and just of the perfect length to fill him on either end. Clint tried and failed to suppress a pitiful whine at the sight of it being so cruelly abandoned. That cock deserved attention, love - _worship_ , and Phil was letting it down!

After what seemed like an eternity, Phil’s hand dropped back down, grabbed his shaft and pumped hard and fast, grunting at the change of pace. Clint stared, transfixed, at the flying blur of Phil’s hand. He held his breath as Phil’s hips jerked helplessly, and then he was coming, cock pulsing come over his stomach and chest as he gasped for air as he collapsed against the wall, wrecked and wrung out.

For a moment, everything was still.

Then, Phil slowly raised his head to look straight at Clint from under his brow, eyes dark and hungry.

“Come here and clean me up,” he rasped, voice low and fucked-out. It went directly to Clint’s cock, and he nearly came in his tac pants.

“Sir, yes sir,” he managed breathlessly and hurried to do as he was told.


End file.
